Phoebe Montgomery comes to La Crosse to
find out what happened to her sister four years ago. What she finds instead is
a journal. Written by a killer, she’s drawn into his net. Can she play the game
he’s so good at and win, or will she become his next victim?

EXCERPT

Phoebe sat in the big bay window and looked
out over the city. From her new apartment above the Bodega Brew Café on Fourth
Street in La Crosse, she could see up and down the street. She could see other
bars and restaurants as well as shops. If she turned and looked south, she
could see the baby blue bridge connecting Wisconsin and Minnesota and the
outline of the Radisson Hotel.

She should have been in bed, but she was
still wound up from moving in. She had come to La Crosse to check out the
college, but she also had another reason for being here. This was the last
place her older sister Sydney had been seen.

Sydney had been seven years older than
Phoebe, but even with the age difference, the sisters had been close. When
Sydney disappeared four years ago, Phoebe wanted to come here and look for her,
but she'd only been sixteen and her parents wouldn't let her. Now she was an
adult and could do what she wanted. But when she left home, her mother tried to
talk to her about Sydney and letting go, but Phoebe didn't listen. She was here
to find her sister, no matter the cost.

Because she didn't know how long it would
take, she had rented an apartment downtown. Sydney had come here to go to the
University of Wisconsin. She had gotten hooked on Archaeology from an old mummy
movie when they were growing up, and she wanted to know more about how people
in ancient times lived. UW-La Crosse had a fine program and she had come here
to study.

The two girls had been planning a weekend
together just before Sydney disappeared. When news had reached them at home,
Phoebe's family had been devastated. Her parents had come to La Crosse to help
the police but they hadn't found her. Now, four years later, Phoebe was still
missing. The police had all but stopped looking for her a long time ago. They
had other things to worry about; other crimes and missing persons, but Phoebe
only had Sydney to worry about.

As she sat in the early hours of the
morning looking out over the city, she couldn't help but say a prayer for her
sister. If she was still in the city, Phoebe vowed to find her.

She got up from her spot in the window
bench and made her way to the bedroom. Originally, this entire floor had been
one single apartment, but that was back when the Bodega had been a Café, not a
brewery. Now the upper floor had been divided in half, and it was two
apartments. She rented the smaller side, although she had her pick of either,
since either side was open for rent at the moment.

She made her way to the bedroom, and
without turning on the lights, she tried to find her way to the bed. She was
almost there when her foot hit a loose board and she turned her ankle. She fell
to the floor and hissed as the pain shot up from her twisted ankle to her knee.

Grabbing her ankle, she waited for the pain
to subside before she struggled to her feet and hobbled to the door for the
light switch. Turning the switch on, she tottered back over to the bed and
looked at her foot.

A dark bruise was already evident on her
foot. Phoebe knew she had to wrap her foot or she wouldn't be able to walk on
it tomorrow. She limped to the living room and began opening boxes she thought
would have her first aid kit. When she finally found it, she took out the
self-adhesive ace bandage and began wrapping her foot.

When she went back into the bedroom, she
stopped off at the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer then
carefully made her way back to the bed. When she got close to where she fell,
she looked the floor over carefully. The board she had tripped on was out of
place, so she lifted it and was going to put it back when she caught sight of
something in the floorboards.

Grabbing a flashlight she found several
notebooks and a small box. Picking one of the books up, she opened it to find
handwritten notes. She took the notebook up on the bed, and as she got
comfortable, she put the ice on her ankle. She opened the book again and began
reading the words.

"I came to her like a lover, at least

that's what she thought. Me, I knew

what I had to do. Before this night was

over, her life would end and mine

would go on much like before except

for one thing. I would relish her memory

like a fine wine.

Her memory would be full and robust,

pleasing to the palette, bursting with

energy as it slides down the throat.

Her body reminds me of alabaster

marble, carved lovingly into a work

of art. The perfect model of womanhood.

Her face frozen in death, her blood

cooling in her veins.

Seeing her like that was better than

making love to her in the heat of passion.

As I could feel myself reaching the point

of no return, I reached for the knife

to slit her throat. I knew I would

climax again when I saw her as she

would be later, cold in death.

Phoebe's eyes widened in horror as she read
the words in the journal. Slowly she closed the book as the meaning of what she
had read sank in. She shivered violently as the words seared into her brain
then pushed the book away from her. She looked at the book on the bed in dreaded
amazement for a few moments then leaned forward to retrieve it.